Sliding Home Page 6

  He chuckled. “I don’t like the press finding me everywhere I go. I don’t want to worry about being perfectly groomed when I go down to breakfast. It’s easier to make my own reservations privately.”

  “Please,” I drawled. “You are not camera-shy.”

  He chuckled. “Definitely not. But there’s a time and a place for everything.”

  Apparently, the time was the moment the elevator doors closed. I’d barely leaned back against the paneling when he pressed himself flush against my body. I felt the heat of him against my skin, and the hard planes of his torso and hips. His hands were large where they cupped my face and tunneled into my hair. I thought he would kiss me then. God, I ached for him to kiss me, but his gaze went to his fingers and my hair as he stroked through the strands.

  “So silky,” he said.

  It was an odd feeling to have him brush his fingers through my hair, his eyes soft as he watched the strands fall across his wrists and my vision. I was so absorbed in watching the fascination in his gaze that at first, I didn’t appreciate the tingling sensation on my scalp as he lifted my hair and then let it fall. But the more times he stroked, the more I settled into the moment. Into the tingle and soft brush, into the gentle pressure and the heat of his breath.

  I wanted to ask him so many questions. Was this a seduction technique? Did other girls melt at his feet as easily as I was doing? Fleeting thoughts disappeared before they fully formed. I was getting swept up in his touch, lost in the light green intensity in his eyes.

  And then the elevator opened.

  He was beside me in a flash, his expression almost bored as he scanned the hallway. I was still looking at his face, wondering how he could appear so put-together when every cell in my body was caught up in riding the waves of heat and desire.

  He held out his hand and escorted me down the hall to his room. I stood there as he pulled out his key card. I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe. Butterflies were careening throughout my body, and I just started laughing, a little giggle that grew in strength and volume.

  He looked at me, his green eyes sparkling. “What’s so funny?”

  I shook my head. “Absolutely nothing.”

  “Nervous?”

  “I get nervous every time I have to speak to more than two people at a time. This is like standing up in front of an auditorium.”

  He pushed open the door. “It’s just me.”

  “You’re a lot of guy.”

  He tugged me into his hotel room. “Just one guy who thinks you’re terrific.”

  I went easily, my resistance completely gone. This had been a fantasy night from the beginning. An impossible date, an over-the-top restaurant, and I’d finally gotten to practice one of those techniques I’d been reading about since the onset of puberty. Fantasy on top of fantasy was coming true, simply because I’d decided to be bold. To say “yes” instead of “maybe someday.”

  And now he was leading me to his balcony where—to the left—the city of Chicago stretched out before us in a stunning display of lights. And then to the right, Lake Michigan shimmered, inky dark except for boats here and there. And all of it magical.

  He opened the sliding door and I stepped out, my head spinning almost as much as my body tingled. It was a windy night, and the breeze blew cold against my overheated skin, but I didn’t care. It was beautiful here as I looked out at the glorious vista. But despite where my gaze landed, my body knew exactly where he was as he followed me out onto the balcony, stepping up behind me and tugging me gently back into his arms. I felt the solidity of his body and the caress of his hands.

  “You’re safe with me,” he said. I felt his chest expand as he breathed in the night air. He didn’t push, didn’t demand. He just stood there and held me.

  “I’ve always played it safe,” I murmured as I dropped my head back against his very solid shoulder. “Until tonight.”

  He chuckled, and I felt the sound against my scalp. “Too bad,” he murmured. “You’re safe anyway.”

  Those were exactly the words I needed to hear. Somehow, with them, my fears melted away. I hadn’t even realized they’d been niggling at the back of my mind until the tension faded. I stretched up my arms to touch his head, burrowing my fingers in his soft curls. And when his hands went from my belly to cup my breasts, I trembled in delight.

  His hands were big, his fingers deft. And best of all, my bra was really thin. No padding needed for this full-figured gal. So when his thumbs rolled over my nipples, zings of electricity fired through my blood. I pressed my bottom backward, knowing I was inviting that hard, thick ridge of him to burrow deeper.

  I regretted that I’d worn a tight dress. If I’d gone for something simpler, all sorts of interesting things could be happening right now. Instead, I was held tight by his hands on my breasts and the restriction of my skirt.

  He didn’t seem to mind. God, what he could do with just his fingers. He lifted my breasts, kneading them, and when I was arching into his hands, he squeezed my nipples until I was gasping.

  Then he let his right hand slip away. I hoped it would move lower on my body. This knit dress could slide up, right? But instead, he slid it to the back of my dress, even though there was no zipper. I couldn’t figure out what…

  His hand pinched my back, and my bra abruptly loosened.

  Well, that was lovely. I could breathe. And while I inhaled, his thumb rolled beneath the underwire and inch by inch, pushed it off my breast. Yummy. Except now I had a bra nearly up to my neck.

  “It’s strapless,” I said. “Just pull it free.”

  “My favorite words.” He tugged and with a little awkward maneuvering, I was now in a knit dress with no support at all. It felt like being naked, except that the texture of the fabric added to the sensation where he rubbed it into my skin. Slightly rough. Nearly uncomfortable. And it made me want to be completely naked with him. Skin to skin. Face-to-face.

  But when I started to turn, he flattened his palm on my belly to hold me in place. “Just look at the stars,” he said.

  Stars? He was the only star I was thinking about. But I obligingly lifted my gaze to the heavens while he continued to mold my breasts, tease my nipples, and make me so wet that I could barely stand. In fact, I probably couldn’t have, if he hadn’t been holding me up.

  “Ready for what I promised?”

  I was ready for whatever he wanted. I nodded without even speaking.

  “I want to help you get used to rejection.”

  It took me a moment to process what he’d said. And even then, I didn’t understand. “What?”

  “Ask me to step away from you. To leave you alone.”

  What? No! I straightened off of him and started to twist. “Do you want to—?”

  “Listen to me.” He pressed his hand to my lips. “If you really want me to stop, just say, ‘Balk.’”

  “Balk?”

  He dropped his hands and backed away. “Exactly. Balk. That’s the word.”

  Now that he was away from me, I felt cold and confused. I turned around to face him, my knees weak enough that I had to lean against the railing. “But—”

  “Now ask me not to touch you.”

  “But I want—”

  “Ellie, ask me.”

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “That’s not a question. Try again.”

  Grammar? He was making me think about grammar now? “Will you not touch me?”

  He grinned and spoke quite firmly. “No.” Then he extended his hand, finger outstretched as he stroked it down my cheek, then curled it under my jaw. “See? You’ve been rejected. Now ask me something else.”

  Understanding flashed and I felt stupid for not figuring this out earlier. He was stroking my neck, sliding his fingers down my cleavage.

  “Ellie—”

  “Balk.”

  He froze for a split second, then stepped back. His gaze was searching my face, but his hands were down by his side. “Ellie?”

  “Jus
t checking,” I said. “I needed to make sure I understood the rules.” In truth, it was really simple. Whatever I asked for, he’d deny me. So if I asked for him to kiss me, he’d say no. But if I asked him to stay away, he’d be all over me. Just like I wanted. And the safe word was “balk.”

  I tilted my head back, trying to decide how I wanted to play. I got the feeling that whatever I wanted, however I dared, he would satisfy my most secret fantasies. And I did have a lot of those…

  “Ellie,” he said, “ask me—”

  “I believe I’m asking the questions here,” I interrupted. “I’m in charge, right?”

  He shook his head, answering with a no, just as I’d expected as he stepped closer. “Nope. Not in charge.”

  Except I was. In this backward way, I was telling him exactly what I wanted. “Will you please keep your mouth away from my breasts?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  He wasn’t tall for major league baseball, but the man towered over me. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I framed my question, though it wasn’t that he’d wink at me, then suddenly disappear back into his hotel room. But then a second later, he came back with a couch cushion that he let fall to the ground right in front of my feet, then dropped to his knees.

  That brought his face level with my breasts, and my face heated in embarrassment. I wasn’t even sure why, but to have a man on his knees before me seemed so arousingly powerful.

  Then he leaned forward and took my breast in his mouth, right through the dress. He used his hands to help shape me, but mostly he used his teeth. What a sensation that was! Rough fabric, the bite of his mouth, and his hands lifting me, holding me, keeping me right there while my heart slammed triple time and my knees went weak.

  And then suddenly, he stopped. He pulled back with a grin as he looked at me.

  I waited, unsure what to do. And then he smiled slyly at me. “Ask me something else.”

  I liked this game. I like feeling powerful enough to demand the things I was thinking. And with his green eyes daring me to be wild, I found myself saying things I never thought I could.

  “You promised me something a little while ago,” I said. “But I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want you to… to…take off my panties.”

  He grinned. “That’s not a question.”

  “Will you leave my underwear alone?”

  He glanced at where my bra lay discarded on the floor. “Obviously not.”

  Then he set his hands on my ankles. Heat flooded me as he stroked the knobby bone just above the sandal strap. There was a single pause as he teased the flesh there in a circle, and then suddenly he was sliding his palms up my calves, along the back of my knees, and then up my thighs. The dress was in his way, but he slipped underneath it. And while fire tingled in his wake, he slid those hands under the skirt as he pushed all the way to my hips.

  Seconds later, he was framing my ass and grinning the whole while.

  “What?” I gasped.

  “You’re not wearing any panties.”

  “Of course, I …” Oh, right. Thong. Rachel had insisted I wear one, so that there wouldn’t be any panty lines.

  “Do you have a particular fondness for these?” he asked.

  “What? No. They’re Rachel’s.”

  “Good.” Then he started to tug the thong upward. High enough that it dug into places that were already wet and sensitive.

  “What are you doing?” I gasped as a jolt of sensation shot through my core.

  “I’m playing with your underwear. See?”

  He shifted his hands and started tugging on the back and then the front, seesawing it between my thighs. The scrap of black lace slipped between my labia and rolled over my clit. I gasped and gripped the railing, my head falling back as I groaned in delight. Stars were shooting through my blood, exploding upward from where he scraped my underwear back and forth.

  And then he stopped, and I nearly screamed in frustration. It took me a moment to catch my breath, but eventually I did. I opened my eyes to look at him.

  “Will you leave my sandals on my feet?” I whispered.

  “Nope.” He immediately unhooked the buckles, and I stepped out of them. Good. I didn’t want to accidentally impale him with my next move.

  “Will you leave my foot on the ground?”

  “Never.” And then he grabbed my ankle and angled my leg up and over. He kneaded the arch while he worked, and my toes curled in delight. Then he set my foot right there on his shoulder. His large, too-high shoulder that left me deliciously exposed to the night air. Then he inhaled deeply. “I love that scent.”

  Really? I didn’t know what to think. Especially since his hand slid back up my leg and straight to my thong.

  “I forgot,” he said. “I’m not done messing with this.”

  I felt his fingers, long and strong as they maneuvered beneath the thong. And then I heard a pop.

  I jolted.

  “Did you just rip my thong?”

  He didn’t answer except to arch a brow. And then I felt a jerk on the fabric slightly above the other leg. Yup. He’d just torn apart my underwear. And if the seesaw of the fabric had been delicious before, it was devastating now as he pulled it as high as it would go, then slowly drew it out.

  And this time my knees did go out. My foot slid off his shoulder and down his back, drawing him right where I wanted him.

  I felt his breath, hot over my wetness. His hands supported me, one cupping my rear, the other slipping between folds, burrowing deep enough to make me groan and opening me to his tongue.

  Or so I thought. Instead, he just held still.

  “Ellie,” he whispered as he scraped his teeth along my thigh. “Ask me to do something.”

  I’d never asked for what I wanted before. I just wasn’t made that way, except in my dreams. But I’d spent years fantasizing about Jake and now here he was, on a night built of fantasies. It was time to live what I wanted instead of just dream it. So while my face heated in embarrassment, the rest of me discovered how to be bold.

  “Will you…” I took a breath. “Will you stop licking my clit?”

  “I never started.” And then he did. A tiny burrow, a harder push. Stroke after stroke, while I squeezed my heel into his back. I shamelessly thrust myself onto his tongue. Deeper. Stronger.

  My belly quivered. My breath caught. And I gripped the railing while my inhibitions shattered.

  He licked. He pushed. And then he sucked. Hard.

  Wow!

  Pleasure shot through my body as I went wild. My leg tightened, pressing my heel into his back and lifting me off the ground. He kept at it, at me, and I screamed as I lost my balance. He caught me. Hell, he was already holding me, but suddenly he had all my weight as I toppled to the ground.

  He made it smooth, even rolling beneath me so that I landed on top. The whole situation was ridiculous. I was lying on top of him, my ass bared to the stars. But I felt so good, he was so solid, and yes, I’d just let a man devour me on an outdoor balcony. Better yet, that man was Jake. I started laughing, and he echoed the sound. I felt deep rumbles against my chest, sweet kisses on my neck. My head dangled and my legs were splayed across his very flat belly. I tried to think of something clever to say. This was the time for bright banter, for sweet tenderness, or something. But my brain was too fuzzy, my heart too happy.

  I’d been half in love with him long before yesterday’s barbecue. Fantasies about him had filled those long nights when my entire life had been dedicated to work and school. He’d been the secret crush who watched silly movies with me when I couldn’t sleep, and the dream who held me in his arms at night when I’d done poorly on a test or screwed up at work. He was the man I ran to in my thoughts when I wanted a hug or a great orgasm. And now he’d given me both.

  If I’d been half in love with him before, I was tumbling fast now. It wasn’t real. I knew that. But it felt so perfect, I couldn’t help but let myself fall into it. I wanted more of the hot passion I’d ju
st tasted. And even more than that, I wanted a morning after. And a thousand after that.

  It wasn’t real, I repeated, but my heart wasn’t listening. So I pressed a kiss to his forehead and whispered the first thought that came into my head.

  “Will you please, never, ever do that again?”

  He chuckled. “Absolutely not.”

  I chuckled, then slowly gathered my strength. I couldn’t stay here, sprawled on top of him. But when I lifted myself up, he was grinning. I recognized that devilish gleam in his eye from close-up shots of him after he’d hit a home run. Glee. Pride. Cat-in-the-cream hotness.

  And you know what? I couldn’t really begrudge him that. After all, I still felt random sparks of light firing in my blood. They came when I moved against him. They shot behind my eyes when he stroked his hand up and over my hip. And they made me nuzzle my lips across his temple and down his nose. I wanted to get to his mouth, but couldn’t quite make it. Not at this angle.

  I was just levering myself up, purposely sliding as I went so that I could maximize the contact between us. There were things I intended to do to him. Hell, given what he’d just done to me, I was flush with the need to return the favor. And maybe explore what else we could do while I practiced getting refused.

  Except just as I was thinking of exactly what other questions I’d ask—something like, will you please stay completely dressed—the sliding door to the next door hotel room slid open and a screaming boy came running out.

  “Fire! Fire!”

  Chapter Eight

  Ellie

  “Fire!”

  I jolted upright, scrambling to my feet, but I wasn’t as fast as Jake. The moment I was off his body, he leaped up and ran to the side of our balcony. By the time I got there, he was already talking low and fast to the screaming boy.

  “Hey there! I’m here. What’s going on?”

  The boy turned panicked eyes toward us and pointed inside the hotel room. “Fire,” he gasped. “Fire!”

  “Okay, okay. We can help. Is there anyone in there with you?”

  The boy shook his head, his eyes still wide.

  “So it’s just you. That’s great, buddy.”